The Life of Nelson, Volume 2

In his criticisms of the Admiralty's general course, it does not appear whether Nelson, who was hereafter to be the greatest sufferer from St. Vincent's excessive economies, realized as yet the particular injury being done by them to the material of the Navy. In his passion for reform, the veteran seaman obstinately shut his eyes to the threatening condition of the political atmosphere, and refused to recognize the imminent danger of a renewal of the war, because it necessarily would postpone his projected innovations. Assuming the continuance of peace with all the violence of a prejudice, he permitted the strength and resources of the Navy to deteriorate rapidly, both by direct action and by omission to act. "Lord St. Vincent," wrote Minto in November, 1802, "is more violent than anybody against the war, and has declared that he will resign if ministers dare go to war. His principal reason is, I believe, that the ships are so much out of repair as to be unfit for service." "Lord Nelson," he says at the same period, "has been with me a long time to-day. He seems much of my mind on material points, but especially on the necessity of being better prepared than we now are." The admiral's own letters at this time make little allusion to the measures, or the neglects, which were rapidly undermining the efficiency of the fleet; but a year after leaving England he wrote, "With all my personal regard for Lord St. Vincent, I am sorry to see that he has been led astray by the opinion of ignorant people. There is scarcely a thing he has done since he has been at the Admiralty that I have not heard him reprobate before he came to the Board."

Much as he enjoyed his home and desired peace, Nelson had never felt assured of its continuance. Like Great Britain herself during this repose, he rested with his arms at his side, ready for a call. The Prime Minister, Addington, has transmitted a curious story of the manner in which he exemplified his ideas of the proper mode of negotiating with Bonaparte. "It matters not at all," he said, taking up a poker, "in what way I lay this poker on the floor. But if Bonaparte should say it must be placed in this direction," suiting the action to the word, "we must instantly insist upon its being laid in some other one." At the same time Bonaparte, across the Channel, was illustrating in almost identical phrase the indomitable energy that was common to these two men, the exponents of the two opposing and irreconcilable tendencies of their age. "If the British ministry should intimate that there was anything the First Consul had not done, because he was prevented from doing it, that instant he would do it." "You have proved yourself too true a prophet," wrote an occasional correspondent to Nelson, "for you have said ever since the peace that it could not be of long duration." Jar after jar, as Bonaparte drove his triumphal chariot over the prostrate continent, announced the instability of existing conditions; and the speech from the throne on the 16th of November, 1802, was distinctly ominous, if vague. Nelson then seconded the address in the House of Peers, in words so characteristic of his own temper, and of that then prevailing in the nation, that they serve to explain the strong accord between him and it, and to show why he was so readily and affectionately distinguished as its representative hero. They are thus reported:—

"I, my Lords, have in different countries, seen much of the miseries of war. I am, therefore, in my inmost soul, a man of peace. Yet I would not, for the sake of any peace, however fortunate, consent to sacrifice one jot of England's honour. Our honour is inseparably combined with our genuine interest. Hitherto there has been nothing greater known on the Continent than the faith, the untainted honour, the generous public sympathies, the high diplomatic influence, the commerce, the grandeur, the resistless power, the unconquerable valour of the British nation. Wherever I have served in foreign countries, I have witnessed these to be sentiments with which Britons were regarded. The advantages of such a reputation are not to be lightly brought into hazard. I, for one, rejoice that his Majesty has signified his intention to pay due regard to the connection between the interests of this country and the preservation of the liberties of Europe. It is satisfactory to know, that the preparations to maintain our dignity in peace, are not to be neglected. Those supplies which his Majesty shall for such purposes demand, his people will most earnestly grant. The nation is satisfied that the Government seeks in peace or war no interest separate from that of the people at large; and as the nation was pleased with that sincere spirit of peace with which the late treaty was negotiated, so, now that a restless and unjust ambition in those with whom we desired sincere amity has given a new alarm, the country will rather prompt the Government to assert its honour, than need to be roused to such measures of vigorous defence as the exigency of the times may require."

During the winter, Bonaparte, resentful of Great Britain's claim to a voice in the politics of the Continent, became more and more distinctly menacing in deed and word. On the 20th of February, 1803, in a message to the legislature, he made the imprudent, because useless, vaunt, "This government says with just pride, England, alone, cannot to-day contend against France." Two days later Minto, who was in opposition, was told by Nelson, "in strict confidence," that for some time back there had been great doubts between peace and war in the ministry. "One measure in contemplation has been to send him to the Mediterranean, by way of watching the armament and being ready if wanted. He says that he is thought the fitter for that delicate service, as on the one hand he wishes the continuance of peace, and therefore is not likely to precipitate matters, and on the other hand Bonaparte knows that if he hoists his flag it will not be in joke." It had for some time been arranged that, if war came, he was to have the Mediterranean command.

On the 8th of March, 1803, the King sent a message to Parliament, that, in consequence of military preparations going on in the ports of France and Holland, he judged expedient to adopt additional measures of precaution for the security of his dominions. While this was under discussion in the Upper House, Nelson, impressed with the idea that war must come, left his seat, and wrote to the Prime Minister the following line: "Whenever it is necessary, I am your Admiral." Yet he felt the tug at his heartstrings as he never had before. "War or Peace?" he writes to his old flag-captain, Berry. "Every person has a different opinion. I fear perhaps the former, as I hope so much the latter." Only with large reservations would he now have repeated the rule Codrington tells us he inculcated,—"that every man became a bachelor after passing the Rock of Gibraltar, and he was not very tardy in showing that he practised what he preached. Honour, glory and distinction were the whole object of his life, and that dear domestic happiness never abstracted his attention." He did, indeed, rail at marriage57 during his last cruise, now fast approaching; but his passionate devotion to Lady Hamilton, and his yearning for home, knew no abatement. Yet, through all and over all, the love of glory and the sense of honor continued to the last to reign supreme. "Government cannot be more anxious for my departure," he tells St. Vincent, "than I am, if a war, to go."

Meantime the necessary preparations were quietly progressing, while the diplomatic discussions with France became more and more bitter and hopeless, turning mainly on the question of Malta, though the root of the trouble lay far deeper. The "Victory," of a hundred guns, was named for Nelson's flag, her officers appointed, and the ship commissioned. On the 6th of May he received orders to prepare for departure. On the 12th the British ambassador left Paris, having handed in the Government's ultimatum and demanded his passports. On the 16th Great Britain declared war against France, and the same day Nelson at the Admiralty received his commission as commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean. Within forty-eight hours he joined the "Victory" at Portsmouth, and on the 20th sailed for his station.

Thus ended the longest period of retirement enjoyed by Nelson, from the opening of the war with France, in 1793, until his death in 1805. During it, besides the separation from Lady Nelson, two great breaks occurred in his personal ties and surroundings. His father died at Bath on the 26th of April, 1802, at the age of seventy-nine. There had been no breach in the love between the two, but it seems to the author impossible to overlook, in the guarded letters of the old man to his famous son, a tinge of regret and disapproval for the singular circumstances under which he saw fit to live. That he gladly accepted the opinion professed by many friends, naval and others, and carefully fostered by the admiral, that his relations with Lady Hamilton were perfectly innocent, is wholly probable; but, despite the usual silence concerning his own views, observed by himself and Nelson, two clues to his thought and action appear in his letters. One is the remark, already quoted, that gratitude required him to spend some of his time with Lady Nelson. The other, singular and suggestive, is the casual mention to Nelson that he had received an anonymous letter, containing "severe reproaches for my conduct to you, which is such, it seems, as will totally separate us."58 There is no record that he permitted himself to use direct expostulation, and it seems equally clear that he would not, by any implication, manifest approval or acquiescence. It has been said, indeed, but only upon the authority of Lady Hamilton, that it was his intention to take up his residence entirely at Merton, with the admiral and the Hamiltons; an act which would have given express countenance to the existing arrangements, and disavowed, more strongly than any words, the bearing imputed to him by the anonymous letter. In whose interest would such a letter most likely be penned? Nelson mourned him sincerely, but was prevented by illness from being present at the funeral. He is a man known to us only by his letters, which are marked by none of the originality that distinguishes the professional utterances of the admiral, and cannot be said to rise much above the commonplace; but they show a strong and unaffected piety, and particularly a cheerful, resolute, acceptance of the infirmities of protracted old age, which possesses charm and inspires respect. There is also a clear indication of the firmness that characterized Nelson himself, in the determination, amid all the feebleness of age, and notwithstanding his pride and love for his famous son, upon whom, too, he was partially dependent, that he would not join in the general abandonment of the wife by the husband's family. His attitude in this regard, as far as can be inferred from his letters, commands sympathy and admiration.

A year later, on the 6th of April, 1803, Sir William Hamilton also died, "in Lady Hamilton's and my arms," wrote Nelson, "without a sigh or a struggle. The world never lost a more upright and accomplished gentleman." Lady Hamilton, with ready tears, recorded: "Unhappy day for the forlorn Emma. Ten minutes past ten dear blessed Sir William left me." The grouping of figures and emotions at that death-bed was odd almost beyond comprehension; one of the most singular studies which human nature has presented to itself of its powers of self-cajolement. A man systematically deceived, yet apparently sincerely regarded, and affectionately tended to the last by his betrayers, one of whom at least prided himself, and for the most part not unjustly, upon his fidelity to his friends. Hamilton, alone among the three, seems to have been single-minded—to have viewed their mutual relations to the end, not with cynical indifference, but with a simplicity of confidence hard to be understood in a man of his antecedents. It may have been, however, that he recognized the inevitable in the disparity of years and in his wife's early training, and that he chose to cover her failings with a self-abnegation that was not without nobility. Upon such a tacit affirmation he set a final seal in a codicil to his will, well calculated to silence those who saw scandal in the association between his wife and his friend. "The copy of Madam Le Brunn's picture of Emma, in enamel, by Bone, I give to my dearest friend Lord Nelson, Duke of Bronté, a very small token of the great regard I have for his Lordship, the most virtuous, loyal, and truly brave character I ever met with. God bless him, and shame fall on those who do not say amen."

Sir William's death, by withdrawing the husband's countenance to Nelson's remaining under the same roof, might have complicated matters for the two lovers, but the outbreak of war necessitated the admiral's departure a month later. When he returned to England for the last time, in August, 1805, he was, deservedly, the object of such widespread popular devotion, and his stay was so short, that the voice of censure was hushed amid the general murmur of affectionate admiration. The noble qualities of the man, the exalted spirit of self-sacrifice and heroic aspiration that breathed in his utterances, and was embodied, not only in his brilliant deeds, but in the obscure, patient endurance of the last two years, evoked a sentiment which spread over him and her a haze of tender sympathy that still survives. In the glory of Trafalgar, in his last touching commendation of her and his child to the British Government, in the general grief of the nation, there was justly no room to remember their fault; both acquaintance and strangers saw in her only the woman whom he loved to the end. The sisters of Nelson, women of mature years and irreproachable character, maintained a correspondence with Lady Hamilton during their lives; long after his death, and the departure of his influence, removed any interested motive for courting her friendship. Between them and Lady Nelson, on the other hand, the breach was final. Their occasional mention of her is unfriendly, and upon the whole contemptuous; while she, as far as can be judged from their letters, returned to them an equal measure of disdain.

CHAPTER XIX.

COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF IN THE MEDITERRANEAN.—THE LONG WATCH OFF TOULON.—OCCUPATIONS OF A COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF

MAY, 1803—JANUARY, 1805. AGE, 45-46

When Nelson, after a three years' absence, returned to the Mediterranean in 1803, he found the conditions, upon which the military balance of power there depended, greatly altered from those he had known during the period of his previous service. He had been present, indeed, almost an eye-witness, at the tremendous reverse associated with the name of Marengo, for that battle, it will be remembered, was fought while he was at Leghorn on his return to England; but Marengo, and the conventions following it, were at the moment only the beginning of an end which then could not be foreseen.

H.M. Ships "Agamemnon," "Captain," "Vanguard," "Elephant," and "Victory"

The most significant token of the entire change of conditions—of the predominant, far-reaching, and firmly fastened grip of France on the land—was the presence of an army corps of fifteen thousand men in the extreme southeast of Italy, occupying the Kingdom of Naples from the river Ofanto, on the Adriatic coast, round to the Bradano on the Gulf of Taranto, and including the useful ports of Brindisi and Taranto. This distant and ex-centric extension of the arms of the Republic bespoke Bonaparte's confidence in the solidity of his situation in the South of Europe; for under previous circumstances, even after his victorious campaign of 1796, he had always deprecated an occupation of Naples, and relied upon threats and a display of force to insure the quiescence of that state. That one of his first steps, upon the renewal of war with Great Britain, should have been to place a large body of troops in a position he once considered so exposed, shows the fulness of his conviction that upon the Continent he had, for the moment, nothing to fear from the other Great Powers. Strongly stirred as they had been by his highhanded aggressions, none as yet ventured to call him directly to account. Great Britain, the least immediately affected, had stepped into the lists, and demanded not only that aggression should cease, but that the state of the Continent should be restored as it existed when she signed the treaty of Amiens. With this requirement she maintained the war, single-handed, from May, 1803, to the autumn of 1805.

It was not without reason that Bonaparte reckoned upon the inaction of the Continent. Austria, although profoundly discontented by much he had done since the peace of Lunéville, in 1801, was too thoroughly disheartened and exhausted by the unsuccessful and protracted struggle which preceded it, to be ready to renew the strife. Limited as she now was, by the treaty, to the eastern bank of the Adige, there was in Northern Italy no force to threaten the French communications, between their divisions in the valley of the Po and the one at the heel of the peninsula. Prussia, playing a double part for years back, seeking from day to day the favor of the most powerful, was wholly committed for the time to the First Consul; while Russia, although her youthful sovereign had abandoned the anti-British policy of his predecessor, remained undecided as to the general course she should pursue amid the ever-shifting perplexities of the day. Less fantastic in imagination than his insane father, Alexander I. inherited a visionary tendency, which hindered practical action, and showed itself in plans too vast and complicated for realization, even when two rulers of the overwhelming power of himself and Napoleon, at a later date, set their hands to the task. Swayed, alternately, by sympathy with the ancient order of things, which Great Britain for the moment represented, and by prospects of Russian aggrandizement, which Bonaparte dangled before his eyes, the Czar halted between two opinions, pleasing himself, meanwhile, in weaving, with associates of his own age, schemes for a general reorganization of Europe. In these the interests of Russia naturally, and quite properly, had a leading part, and not least in those seas and regions that fell within the limits of Nelson's command.

The power of the great states which lay to the northward and eastward of him being thus neutralized, Bonaparte found upon the land nothing to oppose his will, or to contest his influence, in the smaller and weaker nations to the southward and westward, close to his own doors, but isolated from the rest of Europe, except by sea—a weighty exception. Spain, reduced to virtual vassalage in the previous war, no longer even pretended to dispute his orders. She was not engaged in the present hostilities, simply because it suited him better to take a money tribute from her, and to enjoy for French ships the benevolent neutrality of Spanish ports, more necessary to them than to the British. Moreover, if Spain joined in the war, Minorca, restored to her at the peace, would be at the mercy of Great Britain, and Port Mahon, the fine haven of that island, was always a menace to Toulon. The harbors of remote Portugal, where Lisbon formerly had given powerful support to the British fleet, were now closed to it for offensive operations; and Nelson, within whose command its seaboard lay, was strictly enjoined to refrain from any such use of them, even from sending in prizes, except under stress of weather. In Italy, Piedmont had been incorporated with France, while the Italian and Ligurian (Genoa) Republics in the North were so identified with her in action, and so submissive to her, that the capture of the latter's ships was at once ordered by Nelson; and he recommended to his Government that a formal blockade should be proclaimed of her ports, as well as of Leghorn, where the French flag was flown on the same staff as the Tuscan. The States of the Pope, intermediate between these tributaries of Bonaparte in the North and his garrisoned province in Naples, enjoyed only such precarious independence as he from day to day allowed. But, mighty as was the growth of French ascendency, as shown by these changes, the very advantages accruing to France from her advanced maritime positions laid her further open to the Sea Power of Great Britain. The neutrality of Genoa and Tuscany could no longer embarrass the British admiral, as it had Nelson in 1795 and 1796. Offensive operations against them were now merely a question of adequate force, and the South of France depended greatly upon free access to their ports. Taking Piedmont from the King of Sardinia, too, relieved any scruples the British might have concerning their use of the island of Sardinia injuring a friendly monarch, a consideration which kept them away from Sicily.

Nelson, instructed by the experience and observation of the recent past, and by a certain prescient sagacity which was at once native and cultivated in him, recognized that the Mediterranean, with its immense indented coast line, its positions of critical importance,—such as the Straits of Gibraltar and the Bosphorus, Egypt and Malta,—and its comparatively short water distances, was the field of operations to which the maritime ambitions of Bonaparte, debarred a wider flight by the sea-power of Great Britain, must inevitably incline. To this contributed also its remoteness from England, as well as its nearness to France and to the ports subject to her influence in Italy and Spain; while the traditional ambitions of French rulers, for three centuries back, had aspired to control in the Levant, and had regarded Turkey for that reason as a natural ally. It was, therefore, not merely as magnifying his own office, nor yet as the outcome of natural bias, resulting from long service in its waters, that Nelson saw in the Mediterranean the region at once for defence and offence against Bonaparte; where he might be most fatally checked, and where also he might be induced most surely to steps exhaustive to his strength. This conviction was, indeed, rather an instance of accurate intuition than of formulated reasoning. Clear, ample, and repeated, as are his demonstrations of the importance of the various positions at stake, and of the measures necessary to be taken, they rather apply to the necessities of the moment than indicate a wide scheme of policy, which should divert the energies of the enemy to the South of Europe, and so provide the best of defences against his projected invasion of England. Yet even of such broader view tokens are not wanting. "To say the truth," he writes to the Queen of Naples, "I do not believe we had in the last war, and, according to all appearance, we shall not have in the present one either, plans of a sufficiently grand scale to force France to keep within her proper limits. Small measures produce only small results. The intelligent mind of your Majesty will readily comprehend the great things which might be effected in the Mediterranean. On this side Buonaparte is the most vulnerable. It is from here that it would be the most easy to mortify his pride, and so far humble him, as to make him accept reasonable conditions of peace."

It cannot be claimed, however, that there entered into Nelson's thoughts, for Italy, any such diversion as that by which the Spanish Peninsular War some years later drained the life blood of France. The time, indeed, was not yet ripe, nor would the scene have been in any way as favorable to Great Britain; and, moreover, so far from being ready to threaten, her energies were effectually constrained to her own defence, by the superior audacity and direct threats of Bonaparte. Even the limited suggestions for the employment of troops in the Mediterranean, made by Nelson from time to time, failed to receive attention, and he himself was left to struggle on as best he might, with inadequate means and upon a bare defensive, even in naval matters. Great Britain, in short, had stripped herself, incautiously, so bare, and was so alarmed by the French demonstrations of invasion, that she for the moment could think only of the safety of her territory and of her home waters, and her offensive operations were confined to the sea.

Bonaparte understood as fully as Nelson the importance of the Mediterranean to him. His mind was set upon the extension of France's dominion therein,—in its islands, upon its northern and southern shores, and in the East; nor was he troubled with scruples as to the means by which that object might be attained. During the short peace of Amiens, Lord Keith had felt it necessary to take precautions against the re-occupation of Corfu by the French troops; and again at a later date had stationed a ship for the same purpose at the Madalena Islands, belonging to Sardinia, which Nelson afterwards made a rendezvous for his fleet. Algiers, too, had attracted the First Consul's attention. "Algiers will be French in one year after a peace," wrote Nelson in August, 1804. "You see it, and a man may run and read; that is the plan of Buonaparte." "The Ministers of the Dey must know, that an armament at Toulon, and a large army, after the peace with Great Britain, was intended to land and plunder Algiers, which they doubtless would have effected, had not a British fleet been placed in Oristan Bay [Sardinia] to watch their motions." These and similar reasons had led the British Government to maintain the Mediterranean Squadron nearly upon a war footing during the peace. But, if Bonaparte's purpose was fixed to control the Mediterranean some day, it now was set also upon the invasion of England; and although he looked and plotted in many directions, taking long views, and neglecting no opportunity to secure advanced footholds for future uses, he had not yet reached the stage in his development when he would divide his energies between two gigantic undertakings. One at a time, and with an accumulation of force abundantly adequate to the end in view, was his policy all the days of Nelson. The Mediterranean with its varied interests was to him at this time one of several means, by which he hoped to distract British counsels and to dissever British strength; but it was no part of his design to provoke Great Britain to measures which would convert her alarm for the Mediterranean peninsulas into open war with them, or in them, compelling France either to recede from thence, or to divert thither a force that might weaken his main effort. His aim was to keep anxiety keenly alive, and to cut short the resources of his enemy, by diplomatic pressure upon neutral states, up to the last extreme that could be borne without war against them being declared, as the lesser evil; and the nearer he could approach this delicate boundary line, without crossing it, the greater his success. "I do not think a Spanish war [that is, a declaration by Spain] so near," wrote Nelson in November, 1803. "We are more likely to go to war with Spain for her complaisance to the French; but the French can gain nothing, but be great losers, by forcing Spain to go to war with us; therefore, I never expect that the Spaniards will begin, unless Buonaparte is absolutely mad, as many say he is. I never can believe that he or his counsellors are such fools as to force Spain to begin."